


Routine

by Ciaossu



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, Libchrom if you squint, Libra is sad, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 12:41:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13123938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciaossu/pseuds/Ciaossu
Summary: Libra has a routine. It’s set for very specific reasons.Libra has lived a sad life.





	Routine

Libra has a routine. It’s set for very specific reasons.

He wakes up early. He doesn’t enjoy this. It’s less of a choice, really, and more of a habit. Monks and monasteries. Early mornings seemed a necessity. He had never been good at it. But the older monks were, and there was no hiding from a scolding for being tardy if you were caught asleep.

So he rises early. He dresses himself, but always hesitates at the armor. He wants to not have to wear it every day. He knows it is not time yet. And while he’s fought with armour before, those are two different things. No one is strong enough to take on a Faceless with just their fists.

(On some mornings the thought stirs memories. The skin of his hands feels tight, the old scars tingling. It takes him longer to get ready those mornings.)

It goes on regardless of how he feels, but not before he tends to his hair. Easier to do without armour on. You would think years of practice would make it easier. But years didn’t suddenly make it possible to see the back of one’s head. His bangs fall into his face still and he huffs, briefly irritated, but not enough to do anything about it. He always muses to himself that maybe he should just cut it shorter.

The thought reminds him of cramped orphanages and matrons with scissors and he shivers and decides that today is not the day to cut his hair. It’s never the day.

With that done and armour on, he’s ready. Mostly. Few were up this early who weren’t already up. Guard duty ran far longer than the hours of the night, and despite their watch, they were far less worried about people going than coming. A few brief words and Libra was on his way, privacy assured for the briefest of moments.

It wasn’t mandatory, this part. Surely in war, concessions would be forgiven and things unnecessary could be dropped. He didn’t need to do this, practically. But he did need to do it. He arrived, alone, with the bearing of a monk and was crowned as such. To abandon that, what little he had left, would be insulting. And so he prayed.

A comfortable spot was a necessity. Somewhere private, where he would not be disturbed, but not far enough from camp that he would be oblivious if something arose. There would be a log sometimes, or something to mimic the pews of a church, but often times there was nothing of the sort. His knees ached, bruised and battered, but it was a small penance. There was one to be paid, and the price was little.

Every morning, he would fall to his knees and he would pray. Not to Naga. Never to Naga. If Naga had any influence over the world his feet tread upon, she did not deserve his words. Not when she allowed what she did to befall her people. Not when suffering was rampant, war was rampant. Not when families were torn apart and peace seeking monks fell to their ends in foreign deserts for a king that no longer ruled.

No, he prayed not to a god who wouldn’t hear him. He wasn’t always sure who his words went out to. He wasn’t sure what words to send out at times, kneeling with head down and hands clasped but no words in his heart to match the posture.

At times, prayers did not come at all. Just bitterness, a familiar anger seeping from inside him slowly. It felt directionless, so much to be angry about for one simple body. At times rage couldn’t even be mustered when ghosts followed him in the early mornings.

It mattered little whether prayers could be sent out. Not from him. He wore the garbs and said the words, but they felt hollow on his tongue. He was no monk. Not fully. A child playing dress up in adult clothing- they dressed him and raised him and treated him as his own but he was not one of his monks, he was a fraud, a failure. A lie by omission but a lie all the same and he didn’t know if he wanted to be found out for it or not, to serve the punishment he deserved for tarnishing the memory of the monks he should have died with upon the sands, to be abandoned by the army, or banished, or if Naga listened for once, to be taken and brought to the gallows for his shame and

“Libra?”

His head spun round. “Lord Chrom. Good morning.”

The prince laughed sheepishly. His hand fell to Falchion’s hilt. “Good morning. I didn’t realize...pardon me for interrupting.”

“It is not a problem.” Liar. “Were you searching for me?”

“Ah, yes. Robin wished to speak to you about something, and Gaius had mentioned you had wandered out this way.”

“I see.” You would think a thief would have more discretion, guard duty or not. “I apologize for you having to search for me. I am certain there are more important things for you to be doing, milord.”

“Nonsense.” A hand wave, casual. “Looking out for fellow Shepherds is part of being a leader. And it would not do well for you to go missing.”

A laugh, shallow. His knees creaked as he stood. “I’m sure the loss of me would be no great problem for our tactician.”

Silence. “Robin would not enjoy hearing you say that. You are just as important to this army as anyone else, Libra.”

A frown. “Milord, there are plenty of others who can do what I do in your army.”

“There are…” That stung. “But that does not mean I would dispose of you. The bonds between us all is what makes the army strong. I would not lose any of them. Especially not yours.”

“...I fail to see what makes me so special to you, Milord…”

A pause. The prince cleared his throat. His face was red. Frederick would wreak havoc on them all if the prince fell sick. “Yes. Well. There are...reasons for that. I thought they were...fairly obvious?”

Silence.

“Well then.” The prince clapped his hands together. “Robin. Should not keep the tactician waiting. We can discuss things later. You and I, I mean. Robin’s discussion is a “here and now” matter I believe...yes.”

Libra stared after the man as he began walking to the camp. His morning schedule had been planned out long ago. He did not enjoy changes to it. Yet, adding the shepherds to his schedule?

He followed after his prince. As he did every morning.

**Author's Note:**

> I WANTED TO WRITE YOU SOMETHING HAPPY. I failed miserably. But I love your you and I love your Libra and I did my attempt at making a Libra worth loving. 
> 
> Merry Christmas you are a wonderful friend to me.


End file.
